


The Agreement

by Animal_Arithmetic



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Coming Untouched, Jaskier deserves to be loved, Love Bites, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Filavandrel, okay very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animal_Arithmetic/pseuds/Animal_Arithmetic
Summary: Filavandrel goes in search of that stupid human bard who is spreading lies about him to get his lute back since the human doesn't deserve it.... They come to an agreement.
Relationships: Jaskier/Filavandrel
Comments: 19
Kudos: 306
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	The Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this tumblr post:
> 
> https://witchersjaskier.tumblr.com/post/611740803449126912/flootzavult-penny-anna-penny-anna
> 
> Please let me know if the link doesn't work!

That damn song!

Filavandrel growled as he heard another human humming it as he passed. None of it was true! He had given the lute as a _gift_ of good-will and _this_ was how that _disgusting_ human repaid him?

Fine. Then he would take the lute back.

And it wasn’t actually that hard to find the stupid bard. No, no, he was singing in an inn, strumming the lute, singing that song. That stupid song full of lies!

The bard froze when he saw Filavandrel, even though he was disguised as a human. No need to draw unneeded attention to himself. But. Good. Hopefully the bard was afraid.

But—Wait. No. The bard was smirking at him, stalking towards him after picking up his bag of coins, lute held gently in his grasp. He sauntered up to Filavandrel, who had been half in shadow, leaned against a pillar as he watched the bard perform. And, admittedly, the bard was pretty—

No! He was here to get the lute back!

“Your Highness,” the bard murmured as he approached, bowing respectfully. Oh. That was—That was something. Filavandrel wasn’t sure what, exactly, since all thought went out the window. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

What?

“You—That song,” said Filavandrel, floundering for words. How—How could a human be so... pretty? Like, sure, he had noticed before—half the reason why he had given the bard the lute, but—but the candlelight in the inn and the warmth of the fireplace changed his features, made him softer, warmer, more inviting than the shadows of the caves.

The bard winced. “Ah. Yes. I’m truly sorry, but I was—my Witcher—” He seemed upset about something, and, strangely, Filavandrel wanted to comfort him. _What was happening?!_ “And I was hoping it would allow you to escape, make a new life somewhere else, somewhere where you could be happier.”

That was... surprisingly thoughtful. And, yeah, the song _had_ let him and his people leave without being noticed, funnily enough...

Still.

Filavandrel stood a little straighter, tilting his head back to look down his nose at the bard. Unfortunately, they were roughly the same height. And yet, interestingly enough, the bard’s pupils dilated and his breath hitched, face heating.

Interesting indeed...

“Why don’t you follow me up to my room?” the bard asked breathily. “Perhaps we can... come to an agreement.”

That... didn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. If the bard was offering what Filavandrel thought he was offering. So, he quirked an eyebrow, motioning for the bard to show him the way. The bard hastened to comply, nearly tripping over his feet in his hurry. But he moved his arms as if to protect the lute should he fall.

Interesting indeed.

Once upstairs and in the bard’s room, Filavandrel watched the bard carefully tuck the lute away in a brand new case, stroking the wood reverently, tracing some of the designs.

“You love that lute,” Filavandrel was surprised to hear himself say.

“I do,” the bard replied quietly. “She’s beautiful. Plays like a dream. I’ve never come across a finer instrument in my life. And I went to a _very_ prestigious school with all the finest instruments a musician could ever dream of.”

Hmm.

Filavandrel narrowed his eyes when the bard turned back towards him, something hungry in his gaze. The human wasn’t... going to try to _eat_ him, was he?

But, no. The human sauntered up to him once again, crowding Filavandrel against the wall, boxing him in with his hands on the wall by his shoulders. His eyes were so, incredibly blue. They were almost... mesmerizing. It almost wasn’t fair.

“Perhaps,” said the bard, eyes half closed, looking not at Filavandrel’s eyes but lower, possibly his lips or even perhaps his neck. Filavandrel couldn’t help swallowing, watching how the bard’s eyes followed the motion. “Perhaps,” he repeated quieter, leaning in closer, “we can come to an arrangement. An apology, of sorts, for my song putting you in a bad light.”

“I suppose,” Filavandrel replied, shocked when the bard’s lips brushed against his.

It only spurred the human to press closer, press his lips against Filavandrel’s, slotting them pleasantly against his and moving and sucking and biting on his lower lip. It took everything he had to keep up, bringing his hands up to rest on the bard’s hips. His fingers slipped under the blue doublet, itching to reach the skin underneath his underclothes. The bard already had the first few buttons undone, showing off his impressive chest hair and a peek of the dip of his collarbone.

The bard hummed against him, pressing even closer, closer, until they touched from knees to groin to chest, gripping his shoulders tight, moving one hand up to tangle at the back of Filavandrel’s hair.

_Oh._

“Undress me?” the bard asked, pulling away just enough to speak. He peeked up through long, dark lashes, suddenly shy and coy.

Cute.

“My pleasure,” Filavandrel smirked back, pushing the bard just enough to undo the rest of the buttons of the doublet.

It fell away, making a soft sound as it hit the floor. Filavandrel moved on, pulling up the undershirt and pulling it off, admiring how it tousled the bard’s dark hair. It looked so soft... So he touched it, running his fingers through the silky strands, brushing it away from those beautiful blue eyes.

“Oh,” said the bard, breathless and just on this side of a moan. His eyes fluttered shut.

Filavandrel cocked his head just slightly. “Something wrong, bard?”

“Jaskier,” he said breathlessly, eyes fluttering open. “My name is Jaskier.”

“Jaskier...” Filavandrel smirked as he trailed a hand down Jaskier’s chest, admiring the texture of the hair as his fingers slipped through it. “What’s wrong?”

“None of my male lovers are ever this... gentle,” Jaskier confessed. “It’s usually—hard and fast. Just to get them off.”

“Well,” Filavandrel huffed, slipping just the tip of his fingers into the top Jaskier’s pants, enjoying the soft moan it pulled from him. “I plan on enjoying you as much as I can. Take my time with you, make you _mine_.”

Jaskier’s knees nearly buckled at the growl. “Oh, _please_.” His long, skillful fingers came up, desperately trying to undo the knot at Filavandrel’s throat keeping his shirt together. His fingers were calloused, catching on Filavandrel’s skin and making him shiver at the sensation. Finally, finally, the bard undid the knot, tugging fervently at the hem to get his shirt off.

Once it was off, he dove down, sucking desperately at Filavandrel’s neck and shoulders, laving with his tongue, nipping with his teeth, soothing with his lips. Filavandrel could only hold on, gasping and moaning when the bard found a sensitive spot.

Finally, he gathered enough wits to open Jaskier’s pants, pushing them down far enough to release his cock. It was nice and thick and was hot and heavy and hard in his palm as he started stroking. Jasking whined, hips stuttering, pleading desperately. He was gripping Filavandrel hard, making more marks around his neck and shoulders as his hips started to grind into Filavandrel’s hand.

Filavandrel hummed into the bard’s ear, enjoying the full body shudder and subsequent moan. “Are you going to take my pants off, or what?”

Jaskier pulled back just enough to smirk at him before shucking off his own pants and boots. Filavandrel kept his hand on Jaskier’s cock, squeezing and stroking and grinning when Jaskier had to pause and hold on to Filavandrel to keep from falling over at the pleasure.

But then he sank to his knees, cock slipping out of Filavandrel’s hand. His fingers traced against the edge of Filavandrel’s pants, making him shiver and his stomach quiver and pants tighten. The bard smirked and leaned forward to mouth at the bulge.

_Fuck._

Filavandrel was so glad that the wall was at his back. Without it, he would have fallen on his ass right then and there. As it were, his hips were already pushing towards Jaskier’s hot, wet mouth, his cock frantic for the bard’s beautiful lips. His hands found their way back to the silky strands, tugging furtively, trying to pull him closer.

Jaskier finally pushed his pants down, all the way down, ignoring his cock to help Filavandrel step out of his pants and boots. Slowly, eyes trained on Filavandrel’s face, he slid back up, the tiniest of smirks dancing in his pretty eyes. His tongue darted out, licking one long stripe from his balls to the tip of his cock. Filavandrel couldn’t help the shout or the clenching of his hands in Jaskier’s hair.

“To the bed with you, you fiend,” he hissed, legs wobbly as he pushed Jaskier away. He needed to be laying down, or at least more horizontal and less reliant on his legs to hold him up.

Jaskier scrambled up, smirking victoriously as he took his hand and pulled him to the bed. He laid down, picking up a bottle of oil and handing it to Filavandrel before getting comfortable, legs spread obscenely, feet planted firmly to raise his knees and give the elf king access to his hole.

“Would you fuck me, please, Your Highness?”

Filavandrel took the bottle in shaky hands. “I would _love_ to.”

The bard made even more beautiful sounds as Filavandrel slid one finger, then two, then three, into his hole with little resistance. Perhaps the bard had recently taken a male lover. But no matter. Jaskier squirmed and writhed and moaned and gasped and clutched at the sheets, kneading them and pleading and tossing his head from side to side, unable to contain his pleasure. Filavandrel grinned, crooking his fingers to find that spot—

Jaskier gave a shout, hips jumping off the bed as he chased that pleasure. Filavandrel was tempted to get him off just by doing that, forcing him with one hand to keep his hips on the bed as he pressed and rubbed against that spot—

But his cock ached to be inside him even more.

With reluctance, Filavandrel removed his fingers, pleased with Jaskier’s little whine. Funny how he was still so noisy, just in a different capacity. No words—just pure instinct.

Filavandrel spread some oil on his cock, watching as Jaskier’s hips twitched, trying to find something to fill his hole again, hands tangled in the sheets.

Oh, Filavandrel would give him something, alright.

He rested a hand on Jaskier’s hip, squeezing lightly to get his attention. “Jaskier,” he muttered, just loud enough for him to hear over his moaning. “Patience, darling.”

“Need you,” Jaskier whined, bringing his hand to squeeze at Filavandrel’s bicep. “ _Please_.”

Filavandrel couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward, resting his entire body on Jaskier’s, grinding their cocks together for a bit of relief as he captured Jaskier’s lips. He pushed his tongue into his mouth, tasting the sweet wine Jaskier had probably had earlier in the evening. Jaskier squirmed beneath him, making little noises, running his hands everywhere he could, leaving goosebumps in their wake. With the hand not coated in oil, he cupped Jaskier’s cheek as he pulled away.

“Are you ready, darling?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jaskier replied breathily, gazing up at him through his eyelashes. His legs gently wrapped around Filavandrel’s hips.

Something tightened in his gut at the vulnerable expression. Perhaps Jaskier was expecting him to be hard and fast and dirty and greedy. Perhaps he expected that he had to put on a show for Filavandrel, or that he needed to please him in some way. Filavandrel pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, tilting Jaskier’s head up so he could taste his neck. Jaskier whined, grinding his hips up, chasing release.

Filavandrel finally pulled back so he could guide his cock into Jaskier.

A breath punched out of the bard and his breath hitched and his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head as Filavandrel slipped further and further into him. Once he was fully sheathed, Jaskier’s hands were back in his hair, tugging him down so he could devour his mouth. Filavandrel let him, giving him time to adjust and calm down.

No use in ending this before it could get good, after all.

Finally, Jaskier pulled him off, gasping for breath. “Okay. Move, please.”

“Bossy,” Filavandrel said into his neck, but obeyed his request anyway.

He started slow, rolling his hips in soft thrusts to get Jaskier used to it. The bard sighed, hands slipping out of his hair so he could wrap his arms around Filavandrel’s neck, holding him there as he kissed and licked and bit and sucked at the sensitive skin. Filavandrel used his own hands to grip Jaskier’s waist, keeping the bard’s hips still so he could roll his own hips as he pleased. Of course, Jaskier whined, stretching his neck so Filavandrel could get to more of his neck, trying his hardest to move his hips.

“More, please,” he asked breathlessly, tangling his fingers once again in Filavandrel’s hair. It was going to be all knotted by the end of the night, but he found he couldn’t really care.

Not when Jaskier started moaning anew when Filavandrel started moving quicker, a little harder, angling a little more to find that sweet spot—

“Filavandrel!” Jaskier wailed, fist gripping his hair tight, the other nearly piercing the skin on his shoulder. “Oh, fuck!”

He started babbling the more Filavandrel hit that spot. Nothing coherent, really, but it was nice to know that Filavandrel could make the human a blubbering mess of pleasure. He rolled his hips a little harder, grinding up, grinding against that spot, as he sucked a bruise just above his collarbone, near where his neck met his shoulder. He brought up his hand, the one covered in oil, to trail through the hair on his chest, palm rubbing harshly against his nipple.

Jaskier shouted, legs tightening around his waist, fingers clamping down hard, hole spasming around Filavandrel’s cock as his cock spilled between them.

Heh.

Without being touched by either of their hands, too.

Impressive.

Jaskier went limp, breathing heavily, moaning as Filavandrel continued to pound into him.

If there was one thing he was proud of, it was his stamina.

Surely, the bard would be oversensitive. But, astoundingly enough, he managed to find the energy to clutch back onto the elf king again, moaning breathlessly as his cock stirred to life again between them.

Impressive indeed.

Filavandrel let him squeeze a hand between them so he could stroke his cock. Filavandrel quickened his pace, snapped his hips harder, chasing his own orgasm. If the bard could come again, that would be even more impressive.

As it were, Filavandrel didn’t think he would last much longer. He was tiring, unfortunately, and Jaskier just looked so beautiful, spread out and flushed and sweaty because of him.

“Please, Your Highness,” Jaskier begged. “I want you to cum in me.”

_Fuck._

His hips stuttered and he spilled inside Jaskier, claiming his lips in a harsh kiss. Jaskier’s hand still tried to pump his cock and he whined into Filavandrel’s mouth when he couldn’t move his hand enough. He only waited long enough for the haze to settle before he slipped out of Jaskier.

He’d reward him for being so good.

Jaskier gasped as Filavandrel took him into his mouth, hands automatically coming up to tangle in his hair again. Filavandrel wasn’t as skilled at sucking cock, unfortunately, but Jaskier seemed to be having a great time anyway. And, fortunately for Filavandrel, it didn’t take long for Jaskier to cum in his mouth. The salty, musky taste was—alright, a little strange, but Filavandrel swallowed it all anyway.

Anything for that pleased look he received for doing so.

Jaskier clawed at him and pulled him up until they were nestled together, slotting together perfectly in each other’s arms.

“Stay?”

“I have to return to my people—”

“Just for tonight, then.”

Filavandrel worried at his bottom lip. Ah, what the fuck. A few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

Jaskier gave a tired little cheer and nuzzled closer.

* * *

A few days later, Filavandrel finally wandered back to where they had made a temporary camp.

Torque met him, confused when he didn’t see the lute.

“I have no idea how this happened, but he still has my lute and somehow we ended up sleeping together? It was a weird night,” he said before Torque could comment.

“Well,” said Torque slowly. “How was it?”

“It was—It was good.”

He ignored their concerned looks as he made his way to his tent.

He had a lot to think about.

* * *

It really wasn’t fair.

Filavandrel just wanted a place for his people. They had been pushed out and degraded and hated their entire lives. Why couldn’t humans just leave them alone?! They weren’t hurting anybody at this abandoned fortress! It was perfect for his people—they were out of the way of humans, they weren’t stealing anything, and they didn’t even interact with humans!

So where were these accusations _coming_ from?

Oh. Great. It was that _Witcher_ again.

“Oh, fuck off,” Filavandrel grumbled as he stepped up to the Witcher. “We aren’t hurting anyone.”

“The townspeople across the river seem to think otherwise.”

A familiar head of dark silky hair popped out from behind the horse the Witcher had been leading. “Filavandrel? What are you doing here, Your Highness?”

“Jaskier.” Damn it. His voice was too soft.

Geralt looked between the two, obviously bewildered. “Since when are you two so friendly?”

Jaskier smirked at the Witcher. “You don’t know everything I do,” he said with a lewd wink.

Meanwhile, Filavandrel’s lieutenant sidled up to him, concernedly whispering in his ear, “Isn’t he the bard that wrote that really rude song about you?”

“Yes?” he replied with a shrug. “What’s your point?”

But Jaskier interrupted before he could say anything more. He took Filavandrel’s hand with a small smile. “Perhaps we can come to an... _agreement_ , Your Highness.”

Filavandrel smirked back, trying to hide a feral grin when the Witcher glared poisonously at him. “It would be my pleasure, darling.”


End file.
